


Stealing Back the Sun

by ohmyfae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Multi, poly ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-22 20:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: A collection of Libertus/Nyx/Luna fics, all loosely tied together in an AU where Nyx and Libertus escape Insomnia to meet up with the Oracle.For rarepairs week!





	1. Argument

When Libertus was seventeen, he arrived at the gates of Insomnia with a bag over one shoulder, a knife in his hand, and a name on his tongue.

“Nyx Ulric,” he said, when the Crownsguard at the gate found him trying to sneak through a drain at the far corner of the wall. “I’m here to see Nyx Ulric. The king took him last summer and I ain't heard back since, he’s my _brother_ and I-”

“Fucking hell,” one of the guards said. “It's another Galean.”

Libertus stiffened at the tone of the man’s voice, but didn't resist when he was bundled off in a van to be sent to the heart of the capital. People from Galahd, he heard, through the curses and grumblings of the guards around him, we're not to be turned away. It was a royal decree, even, straight from the king.

He felt more than a little pride at that. Insomnia might have been closed off to half the world, but people from Galahd? They were special. Exceptions. He thought of Nyx, chosen by the king himself to be a member of his Glaives, living in luxury in the shadow of the Citadel, and smiled.

 

\---

 

“Come on, buddy,” Libertus said. He knelt in the rubble of what had once been Insomnia’s tech district, sliding his fingers under the too-warm leather of Nyx’s Kingsglaive uniform. He pressed his lips in a tight line, trying not to breathe in smoke. The armor of General Glauca… Of Titus Drautos, the broken son of the archipelago, lay smoldering at their feet. Nyx was little better. Even the stolen elixir Libertus had cracked over his chest had done little more than prevent the damage from his ruined left arm from advancing up his shoulder. Nyx’s breath was soft, too soft, and when Libertus hauled him into his lap, he winced at the sight of Nyx’s left arm collapsing into ash. 

“The fuck did you put that ring on for?” he asked, as if Nyx could answer. “The fuck is wrong with you? You know I ain't experienced in carrying _your_ sorry ass everywhere, and now I have to, because you...” 

Nyx just leaned his head back against Libertus’ shoulder, eyes closed.

“Now Luna’s gonna have to go it alone,” Libertus said. His hands clenched on the front of Nyx’s uniform. “She’s about as reckless as you are. More, maybe. You know she tried to outrun the Empire? In a car? Without a license, in heels? I mean, fuck. I’ve seen what you get up to without me. What’s she gonna do, huh? A pair of fucking martyrs in the making, that's what you are.”

He coughed. The air was thick with smoke, and the sunrise burned blood red over the wrecked buildings of the upper city. Nyx’s right hand lifted, and Libertus took it without thinking, running his fingers under Nyx’s palm.

“Well, we ain't goin’ after her,” he said.

In the distance, a car door slammed. Someone was sobbing, a faint wail against the sounds of the city picking itself up again, and Nyx’s brows furrowed.

“No we fucking ain't,” Libertus said.

Nyx’s breath came out in a short huff, and he squeezed Libertus’ hand tight.

“I said no. It's bad enough just dealing with you.” Libertus closed his eyes. He could see Luna still, the straight line of her back, the stubborn set of her jaw, the way the lie slid so easily from her lips when she told Libertus she wouldn't need him to follow. 

And Libertus knew, just as he did on the long road to Insomnia, when all he could think of was Nyx marching off under the banner of the Lucian king, that he’d do it anyways.

“Fine,” he said. “I guess you win.”

Nyx sighed, and his eyes opened slightly, just pain-ridden slits under his drooping eyelids. 

“Good,” he whispered, in a voice so hoarse it was barely human. “Knew you’d see reason.”

“This ain't reason,” Libertus said, and bent to kiss the back of Nyx’s head, there in the chaos and ruin of the world they once knew. “Trust me.”


	2. Song

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret collapsed in a corner booth at the back of the Hammerhead Diner. Her knees clicked when she sat, and the entire left side of her body felt like a massive bruise, but the jambalaya that rocked against the sides of her plastic bowl was too inviting to be ignored. She tried to shove the pain aside and focused solely on eating.

How long had it been since she’d eaten last? A day? It felt like weeks. She’d had some champagne at the party, and some fruit on a plate that King Regis had given her-

When she took another bite, her food was cold, and the patch of sunlight that had lain across her table had traveled to the back of another booth. She looked up, and saw that the cook behind the counter was watching her with concern. She sighed and eased herself out of the booth.

Regis gone, perhaps her brother as well, and now Nyx. Luna knew the cold, unfeeling cruelty of the Ring of the Lucii. Nyx’s death was all but confirmed the moment he slipped it on. It would take nothing short of a miracle for the kings and queens of Lucis to spare him.

And Luna did not believe in miracles.

She picked up her congealed lunch, and jumped at the pop of radio static. 

_And now,_ the DJ said, _We have a request from not one, but two callers. This is for Princess, from the Heroes, and it’s Aerith and Aeris’ top forty hit, “Stay Where You Are.”_

Luna set down her bowl as the sound of saccharine piano playing rang through the diner.

“They couldn't be,” she said.

 _I know your heart wants to run,_ crooned a woman on the radio, _but my heart calls to you, babe…_

Luna’s mouth went dry.

_We want you to stay, babe…_

The cook behind the counter glanced up as Luna gathered her things, hands shaking, and limped out the door on wobbling heels. She whistled for Pryna, who appeared at her side with a soft _whuff_ of a bark, and made her way across the baking pavement to a pay phone. There, she wedged herself against the glass and skimmed through the half-torn phone book below the phone box, flipping to the back where the radio advertisements were.

Grimly, she picked up the phone and pushed three coins in the slot. The phone rang three times, and a far too perky voice picked up on the other end.

“Yes, hello,” Luna said, in a high voice she hoped wouldn't be too recognizable. “This is Princess. I have a request for the Heroes. It’s “Take me to the Sea,” by Yuna and the Summoners..."

She hitched a ride on the back of a truck that afternoon, with a group of women Hunters who had business near Galdin. They exclaimed over the state of her shoes, one of them let her wear a spare jacket, and they spoke softly of the news of the fall of Insomnia. After a few minutes of this, Luna’s tongue was heavy with the taste of copper, she couldn’t stop looking up at the sky for passing Imperial carriers, and her hand was unsteady as she pet Pryna at her side. 

“Y’all mind if we play the radio?” a woman asked. Luna attempted a smile, and the woman fiddled with the dial until the final strains of a cheery pop song whistled through the air. Luna closed her eyes and scratched Pryna’s ruff as the DJ rattled off an advertisement for hair gel. 

_Continuing our saga today,_ the DJ said, _we have another request from the Heroes. Princess, this is for you. “I’m On My Way," by S.O.L.D.I.E.R._

Luna wrapped her arm around Pryna, who huffed and lay her blocky head on Luna’s lap while the song played on. 

They made it to Galdin just before sunset. Luna politely declined an offer to share a tent with the Hunters, and took off her shoes when she reached the edge of the boardwalk. She dug her toes in the sand and looked out over the bright water of the Quay. Pryna danced in the surf, there was a cool breeze coming in with the tide, and Luna could almost force back the smell of burning flesh, the blood that stained General Glauca’s blade. Nyx, weilding the borrowed power of kings, telling her to run.

The ring in her dress pocket was a solid weight in her mind.

Behind her, Luna heard a grunt, and a whispered curse as sand shifted. Luna whirled round, hands clenched in her new jacket.

“Hey, Princess,” said Nyx.

Luna didn't give herself time to take in the empty sleeve where Nyx’s left arm had been, or the burn marks that ran like lightning up his shoulder and neck. She didn't mind the dirt that smudged her perfect white dress when she wrapped an arm around a smirking Libertus’ neck, or the lingering smell of smoke that made her eyes burn. She gingerly held the side of Nyx’s face in her free hand and bowed her head between them. Libertus rubbed at her back, and Nyx leaned in to whisper in her ear, his lips so close that she could feel their touch.

“So,” he said. “How’d you like the song?”


	3. Wounds

Night came early in Insomnia, breaking over the city in long sections as skyscrapers gave way to apartment complexes, garden walls, narrow, curving bar crawls, and the haphazard housing wedged beneath the street itself. Libertus had lived in the city for so long that he’d forgotten how far a sunset could stretch over the still waters of the archipelago. He watched clouds build up into thunderheads near the grey line of Altissia, and thought of the boy he’d been, scratching out designs on the sand while Nyx flopped through the water like a graceless cat. The Libertus who lived then considered Lucis to be a distant place, a name listed on the top of birth certificates and newspapers. The empire was just a whisper, carried in the mouths of paranoid adults who couldn't understand that there, on their islands, they were safe. No one cared what happened to Galahd, so it made sense that nothing would ever happen to it.

The sun pooled into a red haze at the edge of the water.

“Libertus.” He turned, and saw Lunafreya standing at the door to the caravan they’d rented for the night. Her hair was a tangled mess around her shoulders, her dress was stained with the red dust of the desert, and fine sand caked her bare feet. 

She was the most beautiful woman Libertus had ever seen. He wished Criwe were there to meet her. He wished--

“I need your help,” Luna said. Libertus smiled helplessly. He was cursed, wasn't he, to be drawn to reckless, ruthless people? To Nyx, who could take out a behemoth with luck and sheer stubbornness. To Luna, who could stand on a balcony with no option but surrender, and talk an enemy into his own death. To Crowe, the half-wild mage who would have been better than all of them, if the world had treated her the way it ought to…

Resigned to his fate, Libertus stood and followed Luna into the caravan.

It was obvious where the trouble lay. Nyx was crouched over the sink in the bathroom, wincing as he tried to wrap fresh bandages around his midsection without taking off his jacket. Luna gave Libertus an aggrieved look, and he limped his way over.

“You're being a dumbass,” he said. Nyx grunted. “Nyx, just take the jacket off.”

“It's still…” Nyx glanced at him through the mirror, and Libertus could see the fear there, sharp and hot. “The scars aren't the kind of thing you show to a--”

“I cleanse the Scourge, Nyx Ulric,” Luna snapped. “The Scourge.”

“The lady has a point,” said Libertus. “Come on, hero, stop making a fool of yourself…” He reached around Nyx’s shoulders and unhooked the top button of his jacket. Nyx closed his eyes as the next buttons were undone, and placed his free hand on the frame of the door. The jacket fell to the side, and Libertus gently turned him around. 

“Ain't that bad,” he said, looking down at the fiery burns that laced up his shoulder and neck. Nyx smirked.

“Liar.” 

“At least you made it out alive,” Libertus said, idly running his fingers under the strap of Nyx’s black tank top. He felt the ridged skin where the fresh burn scars were, but Nyx didn't wince in pain. He lowered his lips to Nyx’s neck for all of a second before he remembered that Luna was still there, watching them.

Luna’s hand pressed on Libertus’ shoulder. 

“It’s alright,” she said, and kissed him, slow and light, mere inches from Nyx’s face. 

Between the two of them, they peeled Nyx out of his useless uniform. They all still smelled like dust and smoke, and Luna kept frowning and trying to readjust her hair until Nyx unpinned it for her, letting it fall in white-blonde hanks over him and Libertus in turns. Luna ran pale fingers over the fresh scars on Nyx’s chest, and the glow of her healing magic made Nyx lurch and gasp, Libertus held him, bit his ear the way he liked it as a distraction, kissed him into the thin mattress of the fold out bed. 

When Luna, straddling Nyx’s lap, saw his right hand brush reverentially along her white dress, she rucked it up for him, revealing a long, spreading bruise on her side. 

“I thought the ring would have killed you,” she said, gently rocking in Nyx’s lap. She glanced at Libertus, and he helped her push her dress up over her arms. She was so pale that every bruise and scrape was stark against her skin, and when she guided Libertus’ hands to her breasts, he could see the mark of thumbprints on her wrist. 

“I guess,” Nyx said, watching them in breathless fascination, “that the kings and queens are letting me live on, on loan.”

Luna laughed. “Me, too.” 

“So optimistic,” Libertus said, and Luna turned to kiss him again, just as Nyx moaned beneath her.

It took some time for them to find the right balance. Libertus found himself getting lost in the tangle of limbs and lips and low, desperate laughter, and his head swam with it. One minute, he’d be exploring the scarred body of the man he knew better than himself, with the ease of comfort and familiarity. Then he was trapped in the wild blue eyes of Lunafreya, not so much testing the waters as being thrown into the depths, each new discovery a revelation.

Night fell in full, the stars over the sea shining weak through a storm breaking up miles away. The caravan grew warm, and when they tumbled out at last, wearing bits of each others’ clothing and wincing against their burns, bruises, and healing bones, the cool night air was a blessing. Luna’s dog, Pryna, greeted them with a huff and went back to sleep, and the hotel over the Quay was still.

“Oh, gods,” Luna said, after a minute of watching the tide come in. She swung her bare legs off Nyx’s lap. Libertus, who was serving as her impromptu chair, sat up. 

“What?” he asked. “What's wrong?”

“We forgot to replace the bandages!”


	4. Marriage

Nyx woke to a heavy weight on his chest, and a warm, wet, musty smell he couldn’t recognize. Gods, he hoped that wasn’t him. He tried to rise and jerked back, putting pressure on an elbow that wasn’t there, and pulled his right hand free from where it lay trapped under Lunafreya’s back. She shifted, and draped a leg over Libertus’, foot hooking around his knee. 

On Nyx’s chest, the weight wriggled, and Nyx turned to see the black eyes of Luna’s dog, Pryna, blinking down at him.

“Oh, gods,” he groaned. Pryna opened her mouth to pant, and her gaze flicked to the door. The closed door. Right.

“Off,” Nyx whispered, and Pryna slithered down to the floor. Nyx climbed off the mattress—which really was too small for three people—and smiled when Luna immediately rolled into the warm spot he’d left behind.

The sun was just starting to rise when Nyx opened the rusting door to the camper. Pryna surged out from behind him, knocking him off balance, and for the second time that morning—for the hundredth time since the fall—Nyx tried to steady himself with his left hand and had to do some quick maneuvering not to trip on his way down the steps.

Pyna barked excitedly, mincing towards the water.

“Yeah, okay,” Nyx told her. “Do your thing.”

Pryna stopped. Nyx flapped a hand at her. She barked once, wiggled in place, and stamped her feet on the sand.

“You’re kidding.” 

Another bark. Well, that was it. Nyx had gone from commanding the Old Wall of Lucis to obeying orders from a dog. He shuffled after her, scrubbing the sleep from his face as he finally caught up.

Pryna’s eyes glowed a faint gold, and she huffed, shook herself off, and trotted into the ocean.

“Hey,” Nyx said. “Hey, no. Dog.” He groaned when the dog leapt into the water—It was too dark for the sun’s rays to reach the bottom, and Nyx knew from his early years on the islands that daemons liked to crawl on the ocean floor, scrabbling at the ankles of those unlucky enough to venture too far. He trudged into the water after the fool dog, and when the spray of the surf rose about him, he looked through it and into his own eyes. 

Not twenty feet away, standing ankle-deep in waves that swelled and crested over a sandbar below, a perfect copy of himself held out a hand to Lunafreya and Libertus.

They weren’t exact mirror images, he knew. His hair was longer in the back, the bags in his eyes deeper, and he was wearing a light grey, marbled shirt with blue jeans—the kind of outfit he used to wear when he was a teenager, before he joined the Kingsglaive. Libertus was in olive green and black, and Luna was laughing, trying to hold up the hem of a sweeping white gown. 

“If I get arrested for stealing my own wedding gown,” she said, and lifted a foot. Nyx smiled: She was wearing heavy, practical boots, hardly fitting for a dress that looked like it belonged on the top of a cake. 

“Don’t worry, moonshine,” Libertus said. He leaned forward to tap her on the bridge of her nose, and she looked up from her feet and grinned. “We were careful.”

“Yeah,” said the other Nyx, “But we’ve got like, thirty minutes before the next guard patrol comes on shift.”

Luna sighed. “Nyx.”

“Hey.” Nyx shrugged. “If we’re gonna do this, one of us has to look the part.”

“We couldn’t get it completely right,” Libertus told her, “on account of someone forgetting to steal flowers—“

“Libertus!”

“I mean _buy_ flowers, right, buy. But look, we put the table runners together to make an aisle, and that’s a statue of one of the Astrals—“

“That’s the fifteenth Oracle,” Luna whispered, covering her smile with both hands. Libertus looked at the other Nyx with a grimace, but continued gamely on.

“And you can still hear the musicians on the pier,” he said. “Music, flowers, Astrals, and the dress.”

“Yes,” Luna said, and took Nyx’s right hand, then Libertus’ left. Her voice shook with suppressed laughter. “Yes, this is _exactly_ how I imagined it. Down to the letter.” She tugged at their hands, and they stepped close, shoulder-to-shoulder amid the waves of the Quay. “Tomorrow, the rite of the Leviathan—“

“You’ll be fine,” Libertus said. The other Nyx said nothing. 

“Even if it’s just a day—“

“Luna.”

Luna turned, then, and she looked straight at Nyx, standing dumbstruck with foam swirling around his knees. 

“I want you to know,” she said, “that I—“

Pryna burst out of the surf, barking joyously, and crashed into Nyx’s legs. The vision faltered and collapsed in a fine mist on the water, and the dog gamboled about Nyx with a dimming light in her liquid eyes. Nyx ignored her when she shook water all over his clothes, even when she barked and took off after something on the beach, even when he heard Luna and Libertus by the camper, calling his name.

Before him, the sea pulsed with the coming tide, eternal and unchanging, alight with the rising sun.


	5. Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running a bit late with day three's prompts this time!

“I really don’t dance,” Nyx said, as Luna bent over the radio, fiddling with the dial. She was in a white, bell-sleeved shirt and blue jeans, and she wore sensible grey shoes over her bandaged feet. Libertus, who after weeks of downing potions like water and keeping off his bad leg, was finally able to walk without hobbling, gave Nyx a dirty look. 

“He’s a filthy liar,” he said to Luna, who smirked. The night sky was a midnight blue over the Disc of Cauthess beyond the walls of Lestallum, and the small patio outside their caravan was blissfully empty. Most of the tourists in town tended to head for the inn, or for the lookout point beyond. There, wedged between a gas station and a fenced-off parking lot, they were alone. 

“He certainly didn’t dance at the fireworks-viewing,” Luna said, as Libertus took her arm. “Even though I gave him plenty of opportunities to ask.”

Nyx’s brows shot up. “What? When?”

Libertus gave Luna a short bow and whirled her around under his hand. “The bastard.”

“I was on the job!” Nyx said, as Libertus dipped Luna dramatically, making her laugh and kick up her leg. “And I would’ve noticed.”

“Really,” Luna said, dryly.

“Our hero can be dumb as rocks, moonshine,” Libertus said, and Nyx stiffened, his hand clenching on his lap. “But you know, you _can_ get him to dance if you ask him right…”

 

\---

 

“I’m not dancing.”

Nyx Ulric, eleven years old and wearing one of his cousin’s hand-me-down suits, sat under the pier behind his middle school with his head in his arms. Libertus, who didn’t feel too charitable about having to ditch his date by the girl’s bathroom just to find his loner friend, left his shoes on the pier before jumping down.

“I _hate_ dancing,” Nyx said. “It’s stupid. There are too many girls, and everyone’s in, like, blue and white, so I can’t recognize anybody.”

“Lucia wanted to dance with you,” Libertus said. Nyx looked up, his face a wreck with misery.

“Yeah? And when I knock her into a pillar, what’s gonna happen, Lib?”

“You ain’t that bad,” Libertus said, flippantly. Then he remembered the dance lessons in the gym the week before, and his smile froze. 

Nyx kicked sand over a pair of hole-ridden loafers. His shoes were always a little too tight, Libertus noticed, but he never said anything about it. He didn’t complain when his shirtsleeves stretched a little too tight, or when he tripped over a pair of used pants that were made to fit someone else’s shape. He laughed about eating lunch early, even when Libertus could tell that the paper bag he brought was empty when they walked to school. Nyx was a great friend, his best friend, but he had his pride.

“Alright,” Libertus said. He stood up. “Dance with me, then.”

Nyx laughed. “No, I’m serious. Come on.” He held out a hand. “Think about it. I ain’t gonna laugh if you mess up. _My_ feet have been stepped on all _night_ and I don’t feel a thing. Ain’t no one gonna see us, either.” He hopped on his toes. “You know I’ll wear ya down.”

“Don’t I ever.” Nyx stood, red-faced and hunched over like an old bird, and took Libertus by the hand.

 

\---

 

Luna applauded when Nyx stood at last, grumbling about stubborn assholes who didn’t know when to leave him alone. 

“Maybe I was enjoying the view,” he said, and Luna smiled so bright that Libertus could hear Nyx’s breath catch. 

“Then it’s my turn,” she said, and slipped between him and Libertus, trailing her hands along Nyx’s chest. He moved after her reflexively, leaning into her touch, but Luna only set Libertus’ hand on Nyx’s arm, and sat down on the edge of the patio table to watch. 

“Don’t expect miracles,” Nyx said, as Libertus guided him into a familiar, shuffling two-step. 

Her smile twisted. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m full-up, these days.”

Libertus tugged at Nyx’s braids. “It’s rude to stare, action hero,” he whispered. 

They fell into a slow step, staggering over each other, just as awkward and fumbling as the first time. But unlike that night on the beach, when they stopped at the chorus to exchange a kiss, it wasn’t hesitant and short and full of teeth. And they weren’t alone, this time, hidden under the shadow of a pier. When Nyx pulled away, he could see Luna watching them, hear her voice, soft and light, singing along with the static tones of the radio.


End file.
